


Self exploration

by Nilysil



Category: Warframe
Genre: Masturbation, Non-Human Genitalia, Non-canon biology, Other, Solo, character 'frame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilysil/pseuds/Nilysil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an intense extermination, a Chroma decides to explore himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self exploration

Rolling away from the projectile shot from a corrupted Grineer, he fires two short bursts into the face of another corrupted. The last clip in his soma clicks its upward motion – five new empty spaces. The Chroma rolls away from a second projectile and into the spreading fire of a winding corrupted gunner. He pops off a few more shots; the corrupted gunner, already riddled with previous damage, drops to the floor.

Another one down.

The corrupted bombardier is still up, launching another homing projectile as an Orokin drone hovers over to their side. A flash of blue and the bombardier’s shields are recovered – again.

Slowed by the numerous injuries he picked up on this mission, he takes the brunt of the explosion – his shields shatter. The crimson and white Chroma slides beneath the gunfire of a different corrupted, a corrupted corpus ducking in and out behind an orokin planter. Still focused on the bombardier the Chroma rolls closer, dropping the half-spent soma on the ground in exchange for a ceramic dagger.

The bombardier fires another projectile, the corrupted takes several steps backwards – the Orokin drone hovers farther away from the bombardier, yet still close enough for the faint tether to keep intact.

It’s projectile almost clips the Chroma’s tall shoulders, avoided by a slip the Chroma takes into a slide – the ceramic dagger raised. The Chroma’s slide stops just before the bombardier, whom followed the warframe with the barrel of its launcher. At the shortened distance between the warframe and the bombardier a bolt of bright blue shocks the bombardier, sending the corrupted to stumble forward. With his pelt still alit with the bright static, the Chroma pulls at the corrupted Grineer’s stilt legs.

The corrupted falls. The Chroma pulls himself onto the bulk of white armor, and plunges the ceramic dagger into the crook of the corrupted’s gleaming armor. An ancient yell rolls through the Bombardier, but with a twist and thrust the corrupted goes silent – dead.

The Chroma heaves, still knelt over the shimmering fresh corpse.

“Yauc, be careful,” rings over his neural network – his operator. The Chroma, Yauc, nods; pulling himself up and pulls the dagger from the bombardier – the blade slick with blood.

Still under fire by the lesser corrupted, Yauc takes the brunt of the shots, peeling away at his health and his struggling shields. He doesn’t take his time getting back to the abandoned soma, even if it has only a handful of rounds.

His work wasn’t done yet, there were still corrupted left.

And he starts to pick them off.

A handful of corrupted lancers, a few dozen corrupted crewmen, a pair of Orokin drones. Then the tower is cleared.

His operator rings over to him again, “Good work on clearing the tower, Yauc. Would you care the scavenge for any spare materials before extraction?” The Chroma nods – a motion the Operator can touch with their outstretched hand. “Good. Take care until we arrive.” And the neural network connection goes silent – leaving Yauc alone in the empty Orokin halls.

For a time, the Chroma stands still in the open hall – unsure of where he should start. He could find the extraction point and start from there, or trace his way back to where he entered.

This was his first truly solo mission, and he’s never been this separated from the rest of his Operator’s ship, or from his pack for that matter. They were taking care of something within the origin system, while he was left to clear the tower on his own, with only a few spare energy and health refills.

But with that in mind, it gives him space and time to get more acquainted with himself, more than what he’d gather in combat. His abilities he was well aware of, such as his electric blue pinpoint colorations that the electricity swarms from.

Was there anything else that changed within him when he used his powers, what makes him tick?

As he makes his way back to the start he feels along the upper portion of his right arm, feeling the curved indents and small holes that let out only a trace amount of static. The exploration of his features goes down across the back of right arm, across the larger vents. The shocks do not increase as he goes down, but, he considers, each little shock pleases him.

Would other areas react the same?

He doesn’t stop just yet, continuing to walk through the empty halls with sparse blood and quiet bodies tucked away. Neither does his hand, moving past his arm to move across the underside of his large shoulders. There he feels nothing, nothing like the tiny shocks from earlier.

But as he makes his way into the next room something beneath his fingers give – shocking to find as the rest of him has been ridged, solid. He pushes down a bit harder and feels a small shock, a slip of energy, and there is a wetness on his fingers.

Yauc is quick to remove his hand, expecting for there to be blood, or a semblance of blood he’d seen so many times. On his fingers was nothing. He feels back at the spot again without pressing down, an area below his head. There was nothing at first. When he presses down there is another shock, but this one isn’t a pleasant shock – it hurt.

The Chroma takes a moment to stare at his hand.

What made the areas so different? Electricity is electricity.

He needs to investigate further.

Yauc sets the empty soma down on a bench, as well as the vasto and the ceramic dagger. With both hands freed he steps away from the bench, hands already at his neck. The slit he felt earlier shares the same position of one just on the other side of his neck, as well as a pair just beneath them.

So his hands go further down, feeling at the ridge that makes up the front of his chest. A shock meets his fingers, a good shock that runs down his spine and forms a twitch in his tail. He leaves one hand there, feeling around the plates that hide the soft slip hidden beneath. A muted huff sounds from his head, and he makes the one hand remain still as the other keeps moving down across other ridges.

The lower hand is slow to move, pressing at each indent he feels, not wanting to miss another spot. A low growl sounds from Yauc as each new indent results in nothing. Further down his hand searches, pressing at every little give for just one more spot.

Down the center ridge he feels the one more spot, a soft part that parts with each new pressure and slip of his fingers. From that, a groan shakes loose. The hand at his chest moves at the slit between the plates, spreading against the newfound softness and a damp touch. Why does this part feel good, he wonders.

The hand at his front moves across the growing softness, feeling the difference between how it was before and how it feels now. He lets a finger move away from the growing slit, feeling beneath the plates close to the ridge the slit began to form. Other slits where forming, ones as soft and smooth as the one at his chest and the one at his front.

At his chest the hand crawls a little bit deeper, rubbing at the warmth and the pricks of static he finds within him. In a moment of clarity, he moves closer to the bench.

The hand at his front moves down the long slit, sending more prickles that form into a bolt that runs straight down his tail. He releases a huff of electricity, sinking into his own hand.

Inside his chest something begins to wiggle, several small movements at first that roll against his fingers, and slowly take shape, gently twisting around his invading fingers. At the larger slit the aberrations are not as small, writhing out of their hiding place within the slits to the open air. 

His lower hand moves around the wide tendrils, encompassing them for the sake of feeling just what they are. Very quickly, he figures out, they are a part of him. So he delves deeper into the slit, rubbing at the soft static of the wall of the slit or against one of the tendrils – he’s unsure which.

It’s not as though it’d make a difference, as he sinks lower into his invading hand, huffing more sparks from his face plate. The hand in his chest moves deeper, fingers crawling along the bumps forming within. Somewhere, among the numerous bumps and short tendrils, he finds a spot that makes his skin crawl at the touch. His head goes back, as far as its possible without external force.

The hand at his front has stopped, the hand within his chest taps against the spot again.

A jolt comes from his back, a rolling moan sounds from his head.

For the time being he stops the hand in his chest, withdrawing it to touch and play with the short buds within him. He also resumes the movement of the hand at his front, feeling around the opening for one of the many tendrils. Could one of them be like the one in his chest?

The Chroma begins sinking to his knees as his hand searches, feeling at one tendril at a time. There are several, he figures, writhing down there, and they’re all aching for a touch. He’d be disappointed if there wasn’t a sensitive spot, or was there one hidden deeper inside?

Then he finds it; farther into the slit buried beneath a nest of thick tendrils.

Touching it makes his body quiver and he releases a huff of electricity. Slowly he moves his fingers away, trailing them across the many tendrils writhing into his palm and around his fingers, feeling their soft surface wrap and rub.

On his knees the Chroma runs his hands in and around their respective spots; feeling for the spot within his chest, fingering the tendril bundle within his slit. The shocks they give him almost make him reel, shocking his neural sensors in an unbelievable way he never knew existed.

What would happen if he used one of his abilities now?

He releases his elemental ward.

It starts with a small blast of electricity from the vents of his head, the energy crawls down from his head to his neck, and to his chest first. The jolt increases the sensitivity of his insides – causing his head to go back once again. The ward continues to crawl downwards to his slit, where the exposed tendrils chain the shock from one to another. The hand around the tendrils squeeze, his body thrusts, his hand moves down to their nest, rubbing at the soft areas between the other many tendrils.

The hand in his chest moves on its own, rubbing against the sensitive spot hidden within. The hand at his front moves along and around the tendrils. A combination of both, as well as the electricity that surges along his body, takes him out of control.

Rubbing. Thrusting. Pressing.

Is all he can think.

Spouts of electricity bloom from his face plate, along with a series of inhuman sounds. Crackles of electricity surges from part to part, speeding the pace of his hands along the external and internal parts of him.

It ends with an explosion of his remaining energy; a bright blue surge that flickers out not even a second later – leaving the Chroma knelt on the ground, a previous unseen maw formed in the center of the metal that made a face plate. Panting.

A crackling comes over his neural network, one he at first doesn’t bother to respond. The second connection comes across clear.

“Yauc, are you alright?” It was the Operator.

The crimson and white Chroma doesn’t move.

“Oh, so that’s what the commotion was about.”

Yauc is unsure what she means by that.

“Never mind. When you’re done come to extraction and wait for us there. Did you use an energy or health refill for your ‘activities’?”

Yauc shakes his head.

“Good. I’ll have Varik to teach you a lesson later.”

And again the Chroma was left in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> June 24 - edited out 'erect tendril' stuffs


End file.
